


sapphires and silver tongue

by racheljessop



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: (non-suicidal), Enemies With Benefits, F/M, Outdoor Sex, Self-Harm, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:33:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27809149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/racheljessop/pseuds/racheljessop
Summary: a series of john/deputy oneshots from prompts
Relationships: Deputy | Judge/John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. altschmerz

**Author's Note:**

> uploading all my john/deputy stuff from tumblr!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> specific chapter warning for self-harm (ritualistic, non-suicidal), references to sex, and references to canon levels of violence and child abuse

[prompt:](https://ask-meme-addicts.tumblr.com/post/131175287021/obscure-feelings-drabble-prompt-meme) Altschmerz: Weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had – the same boring flaws and anxieties that you’ve been gnawing on for years.

* * *

Desire. Indulge. Repent. 

John Seed felt like he’d been in the same cycle since he was six years old. Younger, if he could remember before then. He wasn’t sure he could, nothing concrete, only vague feelings of hating and fearing his birth father, loving and clinging to his brothers, and a void of nothingness where any type of feeling for his birth mother should be. 

And the same, ever repeating cycles. First it was his parents (and he mixed all the details of the changing sets he’d had up in a blur of anger, forgetting where one pain ended and the next began), and after that it was Joseph, all telling him where he fell short and what parts of him were evil, what he needed to cut out of himself. John accepted by default that at any given time, something he was doing was wrong. It ironically left him little reason to resist temptation, the only question was of how to repent. 

Today, he knelt at the altar of the Lamb of God church, where Joseph held service just for him before every baptism of new converts to the Project, preparing him to perform his duties as the Baptist. He bowed his head.

Joseph stood in front of the pulpit as if he addressed a full congregation, and not just his younger brother. “Do you have anything you wish to confess?” 

John was accustomed to confessing himself in half-truths, too. The guilt he felt was real, it poured out of him like a river and he couldn’t stop the flow, rushing waters tearing through him and washing away any comfort or love. But he kept the details to himself, best he could. 

John nodded. “I have known the temptation of Lust in my heart.” _I’m fucking the Deputy._

Joseph listened silently, and he continued. “I have felt Wrath corrupt my spirit.” _I hurt and kill people for you and see my parent’s faces on them when I do and enjoy it._

John closed his eyes. “And I have been guilty of Sloth. I have been neglectful of my spiritual duties, I have not fully lived up to my purpose.” _I’m **lying** to you right now and I feel **nothing** about it and I haven’t felt anything in a long time except when I’m with **her**. _

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard Joseph’s voice. “You are forgiven, my child.” He looked up and Joseph made a sign with his hand for John to rise. 

John stood, and made his way to the hall where a small mirror hung. He took out the pocket knife kept in his pants and flipped open the silver blade, dragging the tip in a horizontal line across the word written on his chest, both opening the old wounds and creating a new one, slicing through the scarified letters for what felt like the hundredth time. He thought ripping out the words of sins all at once and letting the tissue heal for good afterwards was a mercy. Blood trickled down from the fresh cut in drops of rich red, falling and soaking into the blue silk of his shirt. _Perfect_ , he thought. The blood staining the expensive fabric was a visual marker he had chosen atonement over vanity and materialism. He had more of the same at home anyways. 

The real feeling of cleansing would come later, when his lover would place butterfly kisses around the wound and whisper, “You’re beautiful,” and other sweet nothings against his bare skin. Then, he would feel whole and pure, at least for a moment. For now, he just had to let enough of his guilt out in small trickles to make it through the night. 

John picked up his copy of the Book of Joseph and began to move towards the door of the church, to wait outside until his brother was ready to walk together to the baptismal river. 

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me, John?” 

His chest stung and ached with fear in addition to the fresh wound, and John Seed once again felt like tiny, terrified John Duncan. _They’re going to find out they know they know they know they_. The same jumbled panic of thoughts raced through his brain as when he’d been a child, every seemingly innocuous question an interrogation from inquisitors who seemed to know _all_. 

It even felt just like being a little child trying to hide a crush from them, the way he tried to hold the Deputy close to his heart, deep beneath the exposed raw flesh and blood of his chest, deeper than any knife could cut into. He remembered how when he was a child, every innocent crush he’d dared daydream about had been uncovered by his parents and labeled as _wrong_ – the wrong gender, or the wrong background, or the wrong church, or the wrong neighborhood, until John was convinced _he_ was what was _wrong_ and always would be. 

After the long pause, John turned back without removing his hand from the doorknob and gave a soft, charming smile. “Yes. Thank you for your forgiveness, Father.” He opened the door and exited, not waiting to see the somber disappointed expression settling onto his brother’s face. 

The cool air felt soothing against John’s freshly cut skin, and he was sure the cold water of the river would feel even better as it washed away the congealing blood. Tomorrow, he was sure he’d try his best to feel more guilt about all of this. He would swear off some of his various vices (although he knew he couldn’t bring himself to swear off the biggest one) and promise to re-devote himself to the Project. But tonight, he was too exhausted to keep the river of guilt flowing, to stay in his cycle of shame. 

Tonight he was just _tired_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @adelaidedrubman


	2. hiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter warning for sexual content

[prompt:](https://futuremrsreid.tumblr.com/post/190979179084/smut-prompts) “You’re really bad at hiding how turned on you are.”

* * *

“Wrath is a poisonous sin. It is… _animalistic_. It leads us to brutalize, to seek to dominate others, while in reality… it _dominates_ us.”

Jesus fucking Christ. 

John’s voice continued to drone through the radio crackling at her side. She pushed her foot forward to shift the four-wheeler she rode into a higher gear in hopes the hum of the engine and rubber spinning against dirt and brush would drown him out. 

“It drives us to desire more and more _intense_ violence, never leaving those desires _satisfied_.” 

He’d been at this all fucking morning, ever since she was awakened not long before 8 am with a static buzz from the radio at her bedside signaling the start of a sermon broadcast to the whole Valley, but that she _knew_ was just for her. It was bad enough he spoke in a voice that was so deep and breathless to sound undeniably seductive, did he really have to make every other word sound like a double entendre? Did he do all his damn preaching like a phone sex operator or was this treatment special for her? 

“It causes us to unleash an ever growing rage, but never offers us the _release_ we crave. Only through exposing our sin, laying ourselves bare, can we find that release.” 

Rook’s hand gripped around the handbrake of the vehicle, causing her to spin out with a squeal of the tires. She dropped her head to the handlebars in exacerbation. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” She could practically see him stroking himself under his desk as he spoke the words, pausing and enunciating the most suggestive parts as if he were savoring them against his tongue. 

“I can offer you that release, Dep _u_ t _y_.” 

Enough was fucking enough. She pressed her thumb against the talk button on her radio. 

“You’re really bad at hiding how turned on you are.” 

Silence. Finally, merciful silence. For a blessed forty-five seconds, she thought maybe she’d shut him up. 

“Hypocrisy,” he started back up again, only briefly phased, “It can cause us to twist and contort our own faults and thrust them unto others, to project any of our sins. Wrath. Pride. _Lust_.” 

She pressed the button back down, speaking in a husky tone to match his. “Are you touching yourself right now?” 

“In projecting, we in reality _confess_ ,” he practically hissed the word at her, “our own sins, exposing our transgressions for all to see.” 

She leaned back in her seat and snaked a hand past the waistband of her shorts, starting to rub slow circles against her clit. If he was going to talk like that, she might as well take advantage of it. 

“You sound desperate to _see it_ , John.” 

His voice seemed to get louder, as if he was now the one trying to drown her out. 

“But we _hide_ our sin, we lack the courage to _expose_ ourselves.” 

“Who’s we? I’m not hiding. I’m in the North of the Valley, in the mountains, right before you hit the Whitetail border, at a pond ‘bout a half mile from the road. Come see for yourself if you’re _courageous_ enough.” She taunted. 

Silence. She paused the motions beneath her belt. Wait, real silence this time. She was a little stunned, a little nervous. _Was he really coming? Or had he just gotten tired of the banter and gave up?_ Fuck, she hadn’t imagined he’d call her bluff too. She removed her hand and did her best to make herself look proper just in case. 

Rook was about to turn tail and leave when she finally heard the rumble of another vehicle approaching and saw black metal glint in the sunlight through the trees, the image of a motorcycle coming into view. Even with the helmet obscuring his face, she’d recognize that lithe, tattooed frame anywhere. 

_Of course he has a fucking motorcycle_ , she thought. He tossed the helmet to the side and revealed hungry blue eyes and smug smile. 

She eyed him up and down. “So, decided to take me up on the offer to finally fuck?” 

He stepped closer, until she could feel his warm breath as he spoke. “What do you mean? I’m here as a disciple, to minister to a sinner who wishes to confess. Was that not the point of the invitation?” His words were laced with false innocence, but his voice kept its sultry tone. 

She pulled him the rest of the distance to her by his belt, pressing him against her, then reached down to cup the bulge visible through his jeans, stroking the hardness she felt through the fabric. 

“I told you, you’re really bad at hiding how turned on you are.” With that she pressed their lips together, and John wasted little time dropping his façade to respond, bringing his hands to her face to hold it and deepen the kiss. 

She pulled back to catch her breath, and John started to speak again. “To indulge sin is –” 

She cut him off with a finger pressed gently against his lips and a forceful grip on the back of his neck, nails digging into skin. She scraped them upwards and buried her hand in his hair, pulling it hard to hold him still. 

“If you get on your knees right now without saying another fucking word, I’ll be nice and let you touch yourself while you’re giving me head.” 

He opened his mouth as if to speak again, but seemed to register the seriousness in her eyes and closed lips back together, curving them into an acquiescing smile. He held his hands up in a show of surrender and, without, breaking eye contact, dropped to his knees and started working at the buttons of her shorts, pulling down denim and underwear to expose his reward. Only then did he pull his eyes away from hers to look in reverence at exposed folds. He looked as if he desperately wished to say something, but instead he merely sighed dreamily and lightly dragged the pad of his thumb across the nub peeking from the top of her lips. 

He trailed the thumb back through her curls to dip into her entrance and cover the tip of his finger in her juices, then moved forward again to press against her clit, wetting it as he rubbed circles. He finally slid his tongue across the swollen bud, tasting her in the process. 

“Fuck,” she cursed as he began to massage tongue against her clit in expert motions. Her eyes shut tight and ears barely registering the clinking sound of John fiddling with his own belt, buttons, and zipper with the hand not cupping her thigh to hold her steady. But she more than heard and felt the moan he gave against her as he finally grasped his own length and started to stroke. 

His spare hand trailed back to her inner thighs, teasing there before dipping in again to her core, thrusting fingers into her at the same pace he stroked himself. He pursed and circled his lips around her clit and lightly sucked. She gave into the ecstasy of his motions, bucking into the seal of his lips and thrusting down to meet his fingers in the same desperate grind of her hips. She quickly built to her release, and all it took was finally opening her eyes to look down and see John’s blue eyes trained unwaveringly on her face as he stroked his thick cock to finally to send her over the edge. She cried out as she convulsed around his fingers, he stopped sucking and started placing light kisses against her overstimulated clit as she rode out her orgasm. 

She grabbed his shoulder to steady herself and pull back, watching as he panted, face dusted pink, and continued to stroke himself in front of her. 

“I should make you cum just like this. On your knees at my feet, fucking your own hand in front of me.” He whimpered at the suggestion, but still kept obediently wordless. 

She tilted his head up towards her, craning his neck. “You can speak now, so long as your next words are _begging_ me.” 

He gasped in air like he’d been drowning in his silence before speaking in ragged breath, “Please. Please fuck me, touch me, anything. Please let me feel you.” 

She nodded, satisfied, and kicked the shorts piled at her ankles to the side to stand with him still kneeling between her legs, finally bending them to settle in his lap, pushing his thighs back against his heels and lowering herself onto his cock. 

He groaned and wrapped his arms around her waist as she did, burying his head into her chest. _Fuck, he felt good_. She was relaxed and slick from her recent orgasm and took his thickness easily, aching only with pleasure as he stretched her. 

She stayed settled there a moment before kissing him again, searching his mouth, taking in the sensation of being filled by John Seed of all people. He kissed her hungrily, helplessly, responding to her every move. She separated from his lips, staring into the blue depths of his eyes again as she raised her hips to finally start riding him. 

She wasted no more time teasing or going slow, slamming herself down on his cock with abandon, driving him deep inside her wet heat. All he could say now was her name, over and over, alternating soft moans and shameless screams. 

He titled back and created just enough space to slip his hand between where bodies were pressed together, rubbing his palm against her clit. She cursed and leaned into the pressure, feeling herself build to a second peak. 

“Fucking _yes_ , John.” She rasped into his ear as she rode him, and the combination of the word and finally hearing his name fall from her lips was enough to drive him to the edge, bucking his hips upwards, into her in uneven thrusts, as he filled her with his cum. She followed quickly, grinding against his palm and savoring every drop of him before her walls pulsed around him once again. 

She rode out the diminishing waves of pleasure before muttering a final exhausted “Fuck,” and falling backwards, bare ass against the dirt and grass as she caught her breath. 

John was evening his own labored breathing in front of her, and she watched his eyes slowly focus in post orgasmic clarity, looking around and taking in the exposed area they were in with somber realization. 

“I suppose neither of us were good at hiding anything this time, Deputy.” 

She rose shakily to her feet, grabbing shorts and underwear from where she’d carelessly kicked them and slipping them on over her boots. “Yeah, well, next time I’ll at least not broadcast where we decide to fuck in the open.” 

“Wisdom _and_ kindness. What virtues.” He chimed sarcastically. 

“I try,” she answered, throwing a leg over her four-wheeler and driving off with a wave before her lover had even had the chance to cover himself. She looked back briefly to see his look of bewilderment and smiled to herself. She kept riding through seemingly endless depths of trees and hills, savoring the afterglow of her indiscretion, taking in the feeling of wind and sun against her still sensitive skin. She wished this feeling could last forever. Free, satisfied, peaceful. Just as she thought it, she heard another crackle from her radio. 

“When we give ourselves over to sin, we give a piece of our very soul.” 

Rook threw her radio against a tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tumblr @adelaidedrubman


End file.
